


not alone (in being alone)

by cjmasim



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, American Remus Lupin, Getting Together, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Message in a bottle, Texting, Wolfstar Games 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmasim/pseuds/cjmasim
Summary: Remus never expected to find a message in a bottle washed up on the shore of his hometown. He especially never expected the message's sender to start flirting with him.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111
Collections: Wolfstar Games 2020





	not alone (in being alone)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wolfstar Games 2020 as part of Team Sound. My prompt was the song [Message in a Bottle by The Police](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbXWrmQW-OE), which you can listen to by clicking on the link. The title is taken from a lyric from that song as well.
> 
> Warning for vague references to emotional abuse, homophobia, and insecurity regarding appearance.
> 
> Thank you as always to the fest mods and my beta!

The deck of the ship is empty. Sirius breathes a sigh of relief at the sight. It's so late at night that he's sure it's technically already morning, and he'd had to sneak out of the cabin as quietly as possible to avoid waking his parents or Regulus. The cruise ship is crowded and busy, though, and it's full of passengers partying late into the night. He's not sure there's any other time of day he could hope to find it so empty.

The cabin feels oppressive, even late at night when the only noise is his father's soft snores. It's a luxury cabin, of course, but it's still far too small to give him enough distance from his family. He's not sure there could ever be a room big enough. Up here, it's just him, the darkness, and the waves crashing against the ship. It's too dark to see anything, distantly reminding him of the scene in _Titanic_ when Jack first met Rose. His life isn't a movie, and he wouldn't want it to end like that one if it were, but he can't help but feel that this moment is the start of something new.

It's probably just the late-night delirium with a side of sleep deprivation, though. Sirius had had the idea to send out a letter just an hour earlier, and he'd snuck out into the dimly lit hallway to do so. He'd had to rummage through the trash bin to find a suitable bottle – a used soda bottle with a reusable cap – and that had been quite the feat to accomplish without waking anyone. He can't really be sure whether or not he woke Regulus, as he's always been a light sleeper, but he knows by the lack of screaming that his parents didn't wake, and that's what matters most.

He looks down at the bottle, normally a bright orange but gray in the dark of the night, deciding that it has to be seaworthy. After all, these single-use bottles are terrible for the environment, he's heard, so he doubts a little seawater will do much to degrade it. Of course, Sirius is well aware that the chance of his message actually reaching anyone is close to zero, but the idea of it happening is quite frankly the most he's had to look forward to in months. The end of this transatlantic cruise he'd been dragged on is the only thing that comes close.

Sirius pulls the note out of his pocket, unfolds it, and slips it into the bottle. He screws the cap closed as tightly as he can manage, silently praying it doesn't let any water in, then grabs his phone and takes a quick picture of it for the memory. He takes a moment to listen to the waves, relishing in the peaceful solitude, then takes the bottle in one hand, pulls his arm back, and launches it into the water as far as he can manage.

It lands with a distinct splash, and it's too dark for him to ever know if it resurfaces. Even if it does wash up, he doesn't have a clue where it could go. The ship has been on the Atlantic for two days now since they left the Azores Islands, and he's pretty sure they have at least another day before reaching Boston. Will it float to North America or back to Europe, if it floats at all? Or will it end up on some distant island, or – more likely, he thinks – the bottom of the ocean?

All Sirius can hope now is that he's one day afforded the opportunity to find out.

-

_Four Months Later_

Remus has always loved to walk along the beach. Growing up in Provincetown, at the very tip of Cape Cod, he's never been too far from it, yet he hardly ever finds himself going on walks in the summer. It's too hot, for one thing, and of course, there are always far too many tourists.

The fall is perfect, though. The weather is usually not too cold – too cold to swim, of course, but all he needs for the walk is a light jacket and pants. By now, the tourists have gone home and aren't rushing to come back, especially not the out-of-staters who can't stand any temperature below 70 Fahrenheit at their precious summer getaway. Race Point Beach is nearly empty early in the morning, and the solitude is Remus' favorite part.

He loves his parents, no doubt about it, but there's only so much time he can spend at home before he needs a short break. He's always been a solitary person, the type to request a single room in college even though he knows it'll only add to his already monstrous student loans, and his parents aren't content to let him spend any time reading in his childhood bedroom.

"We hardly ever see you!" His mom would insist, as she always does when he comes home for holidays.

"I know," he would always say, "but we still have Thanksgiving dinner, and we don't need to spend every minute of every day together."

It's a particularly windy day, and the roaring of the wind combined with the crashing of the waves makes it impossible to hear anything else. There are a few others on the beach, and some are even talking to one another, but Remus couldn't hear them even if he wanted to. It's pleasant.

He walks far enough from the water not to need to worry about stepping on shells, but the sight of a particularly bright orange bottle right at the water's edge grabs his attention. He can't stand litter, and it's always at its peak during tourist season, but the beach has undoubtedly already been cleaned for the season. The thought of one of the locals leaving a plastic bottle lying around is infuriating, and Remus goes to pick it up with the intention of dropping it in the next recycling bin he sees.

That is, until he notices that the bottle isn't empty. There's a folded piece of paper inside, almost as if it's a message in a bottle. Remus scoffs at the sight of it; surely, any of the locals would have known that the waves would carry a bottle right back to shore and pose a danger to any wildlife that may come across it. There would be no point in sending a message in a bottle from the seashore; it would have to be done in deeper waters. He knows most of the locals well enough, so he figures it can't hurt to open the bottle and see who wrote the letter. If it is indeed someone he knows, he'll have to remind them of the dangers of litter.

The letter is dated 9 July 2015, just four months prior, and the unusual date style and fancy handwriting give him the impression that this may not have been a local after all. Indeed, as he reads the letter, he realizes that this bottle did not come from a local – it came from a British man who tossed it over the edge of a cruise ship.

> _Greetings, stranger!_
> 
> _I write this letter by the dim light of the hallway in the ludicrous hopes that someone, somewhere, someday will find it. My name is Sirius Black, and I am a 20-year-old male university student from London, England. I've never been to sea before, but my dreadful parents insisted that my younger brother, Regulus, and I accompany them on a transatlantic cruise. Bollocks, I say. Not that cruises can't be fun, I'm sure, but normally my parents' holidays are my only respite other than school or time spent with my best mates, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. My parents are very wealthy and among London's elite, and they haven't a clue on how to raise a family or let a child make his own decisions. Really, is it so bad to be gay or to have friends who aren't rich or to choose to study theatre? But that's beside the point._
> 
> _I suppose this cruise is doing a number on me. It's far too much time spent cooped up in close quarters with my family! Regulus isn't so bad, really, but he loves our parents too much for his own good. It's annoying, quite frankly. It's quite an expensive cruise, too, so there are an awful lot of elderly socialites here and far too few people my age. Pity, really – imagine if I could actually flirt with some bloke in front of my parents? It'd be hilarious. Maybe I'll have to try it on some poor old man._
> 
> _Sorry, I don't mean to spend this entire letter ranting. Or maybe I do. I know it's not likely anyone will read this, but if you somehow do, congratulations! Or sorry. Whichever you feel is most appropriate! I would love nothing more than for you to get in contact with me and let me know how you found this letter, when you found it, where you found it, and tell me a little about yourself. I really don't mean to make this sound like a job interview, but I'm writing in pen so I can't exactly erase it. Drat._
> 
> _My phone number is +44 7777 555555, though I suppose that you may not wish to make an international call just for some idiot who threw a bottle into the sea. Or maybe you'll find this once I've finally grown the nerve to move out of the country and had to change my number. In either case, I can also be reached via any social media of your choice (my name isn't exactly common) or by email at padfoot69@qmail.com. Nice._
> 
> _I hope you're doing well, whoever you are, and I hope that you're nowhere near lonely enough to ever consider sending a bloody message in a bottle. Hell, at least it'll make for an entertaining story. I'm sure that James will never let me hear the end of it._
> 
> _Yours truly,_
> 
> _Sirius Black_

Remus doesn't know this man, but he resolves to give him a good lecture on why plastic bottles are not meant to be thrown into the ocean. Sure, he sounds quite lonely, but he could've simply turned to the Internet for companionship like a normal person. He's young enough to know how to use it. However, Remus supposes, maybe the Wi-Fi on the cruise ship isn't very strong. It's a lame excuse, but an excuse nonetheless.

Something about the letter intrigues him, though. As careless as this Sirius Black may have been in throwing it overboard, Remus knows that messages in bottles very rarely make it to the shore. Even having lived in a beach town for all of his twenty years of life, he never would have expected to find one. It's especially strange that the message's sender just so happens to be a guy his exact age when it could've easily been an eager child, or a widowed grandmother, or literally anyone else.

Remus doesn't make it to the next recycling bin, choosing to keep the bottle with him instead. He's never been one to believe much in fate, but there has to be a reason that he found this message.

-

> _To: padfoot69@qmail.com_
> 
> _From: rjlupin@qmail.com_
> 
> _Subject: Found Your Message in a Bottle_
> 
> _Hello Sirius,_
> 
> _My name is Remus Lupin, and I'm a 20-year-old American male college student from a coastal town in New England. I was home for Thanksgiving Break and was astounded to find litter on my beach without a tourist in sight. I must remind you that plastic bottles and the ocean are really, really not compatible. I do hope that you take greater care of the environment when you aren't bored out of your mind on a cruise you don't want to be on!_
> 
> _Lecture aside, I hope you're doing better. I assume you're back at university now? Theatre sounds like a very fun major. Do you do a lot of plays? I've always enjoyed going to see those when I can. I'm majoring in English (not the most practical, but I enjoy it). I'll actually need to take a Shakespeare course next semester, so I bet you'd have experience with that. It's incredible that your message managed to reach someone of the same age and general life stage as you, don't you think?_
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Remus Lupin_

Remus thinks that Sirius had been correct in thinking that the recipient of his message wouldn't actually want to pay to call internationally. He'd initially thought it'd be smart to keep his personal information out of the email, but he only has the one email address with his last name in it and doesn't feel like going through the effort of making a burner account. At least he hasn't told this stranger what school he goes to or what town and state he lives in.

Hardly an hour passes before Sirius replies.

> _To: rjlupin@qmail.com_
> 
> _From: padfoot69@qmail.com_
> 
> _Subject: Re: Found Your Message in a Bottle_
> 
> _Hello Remus!!_
> 
> _Bloody hell. I can't believe someone actually found it. And I can't believe that someone is you!! I barely know you based on what you've said so far, but I already get such a lovely impression. I'd love to get to know you better._
> 
> _I'm deeply sorry for not considering the effects of my recklessness on the environment, though. I promise that I'm generally not so careless. ☹️_
> 
> _I am doing better now; thank you for asking. My parents are still terrible, but I'm no longer on summer holidays, and thankfully we don't have Thanksgiving here. Is it ironic to be thankful not to have a holiday dedicated to being thankful, or is it just in the spirit of the holiday? Forgive my existential tendencies – we are in fact doing Hamlet this winter – I'm playing the titular character – and I tend to lose myself in my characters. Does this happen to English students as well?_
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Sirius_

Remus wastes no time replying, going on about how most of his reading assignments feature either the most relatable or the most frustrating characters with little in between. He takes a moment to ponder Sirius' first question as well, ultimately deciding that being thankful not to celebrate Thanksgiving is more ironic than in the spirit of the holiday, and he presses send no more than twenty minutes after receiving Sirius' reply. It doesn't take long for him to get another response, and they keep going from there.

Two days pass before Remus decides that emailing back and forth is getting to be quite ridiculous. They're sending emails at a more rapid pace than he's ever heard of anyone doing before, and Sirius had already included his phone number in the letter.

 _Do you think we should move this conversation to Whatsapp? I already have your number. Email is just so cumbersome_ , he sends as part of his next email. Sirius' reply comes moments later, as it always does, save for the nighttime.

_Sounds like a plan._

Remus is sure that his mother would be horrified to learn that he's given out his full name and phone number to a stranger he met through a message in a bottle of all things – and really, with the phone number, Sirius can easily figure out his general location – but Remus is quite confident that Sirius can be trusted. Besides, it's not as if he's giving out his credit card information or trying to meet up in person after a mere two days of conversation. With the pace of their emailed conversations, moving to text just makes sense.

-

As it turns out, moving to texting makes their conversations go even faster. Over the next few weeks, they text more than Remus texts any of his real-life friends or family. His mom notices when he visits for Christmas.

"Who are you texting, sweetie? You've hardly looked up from your phone since you've been home," she asks one night, grinning as her eyes light up with an idea. Remus knows what she's going to say before she says it. "Is it a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?"

"Neither," Remus groans.

"A – what was it, a nonbinary partner?"

"No, mom," Remus sighs, "though I appreciate the inclusivity. He's just a friend."

She nods. "I see… but you want it to be more?"

"Mom! No!" Truthfully, Remus hasn't even considered whether he'd like Sirius to be anything other than a friend. It seems weird to think about, considering that he doesn't even know what he looks like or what his voice sounds like, but they've spent so much time getting to know each other that Remus feels as if he _could_ have some sort of crush on him.

God, he'd better not turn out to be a catfish. Remus doubts a catfish would go to the lengths of sending a message in a bottle in the hopes that someone finds it, but then again, people are strange. Anything is possible.

( _Anything is possible_ , he imagines himself saying one day, to his mom, to his dad, to all his extended family and all his friends when they ask how he met his boyfriend. _There are far more options out there than Tinder_. He can hear them laugh, so easily, as if they think he's joking. He might as well be.)

Maybe his mom has a point.

-

On the drive back to college for the spring, Remus receives a text from Sirius. He doesn't even think twice before recording a voice message.

"Hey, Sirius! Wait, is that correct? I know you told me it's pronounced just like 'serious,' but come to think of it, I'm not sure whether you were, you know, serious. Anyway, I'm actually driving right now, but I should be back in Boston in two hours if the traffic isn't too bad. I'll text you once I get there."

He sends the message and puts his phone down, committing to focusing on the road and losing himself in the music playing on the radio. His car isn't new enough to have an auxiliary cord, so he's gotten used to flicking between radio stations to avoid the commercials.

When he lands on the local classic rock station and hears the familiar chorus of _Message in a Bottle_ , he starts to wonder whether some cosmic force has it out for him. His phone vibrates again, too, and he's glad he isn't too far from his destination so he can check the text from Sirius.

The drive back to school feels much longer than usual, and Remus knows it's because of the waiting. He's not sure he's ever been so relieved to pull into the parking garage and finally get the chance to check his phone. Sirius has left him six texts, and Remus smiles as he reads them.

_Your voice!!!! Wth this is beautiful I'm just playing this voice note on repeat_

_No really Moony it's been 40 minutes I'm still listening to it. The way you talk at the speed of sound and barely pronounce your Rs!! It's so good_

_Your nickname is Moony now because your voice is soft and silky like the moon but with a hint of huskiness like a wolf and I could listen to it for as long as the moon orbits the earth_

_Wait. Does the moon orbit the earth_

_Okay I googled it it does_

_Lmk when you've made it!!_

Is it normal to call a friend's voice _beautiful_? Remus is quite sure that none of his other friends have said that about him, nor would he say it to any of them, but maybe Sirius is just not used to American accents.

He's going to be up all night wondering if he doesn't find out, though. He can't just ask Sirius outright whether he was flirting – doesn't want to make it awkward – but he knows someone who will know.

 _Hahahaha Remus omg of course he's flirting with you_ , Lily texts him back within a minute. She's very honest and has plenty of experience with flirting, so Remus is inclined to trust her more than his instincts.

As he gets out of his car and starts to walk, Remus takes a moment to reflect on how utterly absurd his life has become. Not only does he maybe have feelings for Sirius, who he still has yet to confirm is not secretly a catfish, but Sirius is flirting with him. Great. This semester is going to be great. 

-

"I'm glad you like my voice so much," Remus says later that night in another voice message. He knows Sirius is sleeping – should be anyway, given that it's nearly four in the morning in Britain – but he thinks that if Sirius really is trying to flirt with him, making him wake up to a voice message is an excellent way of flirting back. Probably. He's never done this over the phone before.

"You know," Remus continues, "it's a shame that we've been talking for so long and you know what my voice sounds like, but I haven't heard yours. I know you have a British accent, and I bet it's wicked posh. I'd love to hear it. But for now, you'd better be asleep and hearing this when you wake up, in which case, good morning."

He sends the message and puts his phone down. Sirius doesn't respond, meaning that he is indeed asleep, and Remus goes to sleep himself before he does.

Naturally, Sirius has a lot to say about the message – and okay, Remus has to admit that Lily had a point. He'd be hard-pressed to deny that Sirius is flirting at this point; there's nothing platonic about calling a friend's voice _the roughest silk I've ever longed to hold and keep with me forever_ , and while Sirius clearly isn't an English major, he has quite the imagination.

He does send a voice message of his own later in the day, too, so Remus can chalk it up as a victory.

"Wait, I don't know what to say – I can't pause the recording? Blimey. Anyway, hello Remus, er, this is a voice message from me, Sirius. You were right about the pronunciation; I was being as Sirius as I always am! This is so weird; it's like I'm talking to myself even though I know you're going to hear it. How do I send it? Wait, do I just-"The message cuts off, and Remus can only assume that Sirius must have taken his finger off the record button and figured it out.

And Remus was right about his accent. It's the sort of posh that Remus has come to associate with royalty, and even as he fumbles over the recording process, Sirius speaks with the kind of elegant confidence that he would expect of a prince. Understated, speaking loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to sound crass – and high enough to grab the attention of anyone who tries to ignore it.

It's hard to think of anything more eloquent than _Your voice is sexy_ , and after a few minutes of taking too long to reply, Remus throws caution to the wind and sends it anyway. He has to throw his phone across the room onto his bed while he tampers down the panic that rises at the thought of sending such a risky text, but after a few minutes of taking deep breaths, he chances getting up to retrieve his phone and check for a reply.

 _Coming from you, that is a compliment of the highest order_ , Sirius had replied. Remus checks the timestamp and sees that it had taken him a full three minutes to respond, and he's not sure whether to assume that Sirius was weirded out or blissfully flustered. For the sake of his sanity, he'll stick with the latter.

If it had been impossible to deny the flirting before, it's impossible not to shout from the rooftops that Sirius Black is flirting with him now.

-

It doesn't come as a surprise that they have their first actual phone call just a week later. Sirius is the one to suggest it, and since Remus isn't doing anything more than sitting in his room pretending to work on homework, he doesn't hesitate to agree to the call.

"Hey," Sirius answers the phone.

"Hi," Remus says back. There's a moment of silence as they try to navigate how to have an actual conversation, but Sirius fills it.

"Thank you for doing this," he says.

"Oh, of course," Remus replies. "It feels like a natural progression of things. And now I have a pretty good idea that you're not a catfish."

Sirius laughs. "Hey, I could still be eighty years old. You never know."

Remus laughs, too, and they fall into silence again. It's not awkward, exactly, but Remus isn't quite sure what to say. Texting feels less real, in a way, as if it's harder to mess it up.

"It's been a rough week, I guess," Sirius goes on. "I mean, it's fine, I'm fine, just – I wanted to hear your voice, and not just in the same recordings I already had."

"You can talk about it if you want," Remus says, and the conversation keeps flowing from there, going from trash-talking Sirius' parents to commiserating over difficult professors.

"Do you think Boston is a good place to live?" Sirius asks after a while. "I mean, I did spend part of a day there over the summer and thought it was quite nice, but you'd be the expert."

"It seems a bit soon to ask that, don't you think?" Remus laughs, flirting without even thinking twice about it.

"You read my letter. You know I've always wanted to move abroad."

Remus shrugs, knowing that he's right. "It's a nice city, yeah. Smaller than London, from what I've heard, but I think you'd love it."

"Good, good," Sirius replies. "Of course, it helps that you're there."

The phone call ends up being the first of many, becoming an almost nightly occurrence, and sometimes they'll even talk while going about their days. It's become customary for Remus to call Sirius while walking from one class to another just to tell him about something funny one of his classmates said, or for Sirius to call Remus while waiting to check out at the grocery store just to prompt an argument about whether the waiting area should be called a 'queue' or a 'line.'

Remus doesn't plan to confess his feelings for Sirius. Even though he knows they're mutual, or at least that they're both flirting, he has no idea whether Sirius actually wants anything from him. It would be a pain, after all, given the distance.

It only happens because Sirius brings it up, so really, as far as Remus is concerned, it's not his fault.

"Valentine's is coming up," Sirius says one night. "I've always managed to be alone that day."

"You don't have to be this year," Remus says before his brain catches up with him. What is he _thinking_?

Sirius doesn't miss a beat, and later that night, Remus will wonder whether he'd been planning to get Remus to confess the whole time, the sneaky bastard.

"I would love to have a Valentine this year," Sirius replies, and somehow, Remus feels he can hear his smile through the phone. "Do you have anyone in mind? Anyone who might make a suitable boyfriend for me? I do."

"Is that so?" Remus plays along. "I've heard there's this American boy who fancies you. Have you heard of him?"

"Fancies? But he's American, you say?"

"Indeed," Remus laughs, a little nervous even though he's sure they're on the same page. How could they not be?

"I've heard this American fancies me," Sirius agrees. "And I have it on good authority that I simply can't stop thinking about him. I can't stop cursing myself for not somehow managing to meet him earlier so that I could have seen him when I was in Boston for a day on that blasted cruise with my family rather than tarnishing the ocean with my cursed plastic bottle. Fate seems to have forgiven me, though, for she's led me to him."

"Fate certainly seems to say that that American boy would be the perfect Valentine for you," Remus adds.

"Let's do it, then," Sirius finally breaks character. "Not just for Valentine's. Let's make this happen."

Remus's heart flutters. "I would love that," he says, quietly, grin widening as he accepts that this is real, that it isn't some sort of prank, that Sirius actually wants to go out with him.

"Do you think we're the first couple to ever become official without ever seeing each other's faces?" Sirius asks, laughing.

Hearing Sirius refer to them so casually as a _couple_ sends shivers down Remus' spine, and it takes him a moment to respond. "I highly doubt it."

"But we'll be the best," Sirius insists. "We'll have our first date over a video call on Valentine's. Until then, we'll refrain from looking one another up on social media, and we'll continue to avoid sending selfies. It's not as if your voice isn't enough for me to already know bloody well that you're attractive."

"It's a deal," Remus agrees, though privately, he hopes that Sirius' hopes aren't set too high. His words do sound a bit like something a catfish would say, but he finds that the tiny part of him that still considered Sirius being a catfish to be a real possibility has faded into obscurity. There's no doubt that he trusts Sirius.

"I look forward to it," Sirius says back, and it feels like a promise.

-

Their Valentine's FaceTime date begins with total darkness. It had been Sirius' idea for them to each put tape over their laptop cameras so that they wouldn't be able to see each other right away, giving plenty of opportunity for a big reveal. Remus thinks it's a little overly dramatic, but he knows that Sirius is having fun with it.

"Who's going first?" He asks after they exchange greetings. It's not any different than a phone call so far, though Remus isn't typically looking at a blank laptop screen while on the phone.

"We'll toss a coin," Sirius replies. "I've already prepared the coin. Heads or tails?"

"Tails," Remus says instinctually. He vaguely remembers having heard somewhere that choosing tails gives one a slightly stronger chance of winning due to being weighted more heavily, and he tends to choose it every time whether he cares to win or not.

Sirius is quiet for a moment, presumably flipping the coin, until he lets out a delighted yell.

"Did you win, then?"

"Nope!" Sirius yells back. "I was hoping you'd win, and you did!"

Remus laughs. "Great. Okay then, here goes nothing."

Sirius is quiet on the other end as Remus reaches up to grab the end of the tape, peeling it off slowly to build suspense for the big reveal. He'd taken extra time to do his hair today, making sure that no strand is too far out of place, but he's not wearing anything special.

"Oh wow," Sirius breathes. Remus isn't sure whether this is good or not. "I've thought about what you might look like, and I totally nailed the hair color. You match your voice, though, and that is just delightful. Don't you think?"

"I've never really thought about it," Remus says truthfully. "Do you think you match your voice?"

"You'll have to find out," Sirius laughs. "Fuck. Now I'm kind of nervous."

"Why are you nervous? You're not a catfish," Remus says.

"No, but you're a lot to live up to. Expectations and all."

"You've literally said yourself that you think you're hot," Remus reminds him.

"Hm," Sirius hums. "That is true. Okay, are you ready?"

Remus nods, knowing that Sirius can actually see him now. The screen is still black, but he can hear a sort of tapping noise, which he supposes must be Sirius working on getting a grip on the edge of the tape. Remus can tell when he's gotten the edge because he can hear the peeling noise just as light enters the picture.

Sirius hadn't been kidding about being attractive. If anything, he'd been understating it. He has high cheekbones and the facial structure of a model, and his hair is down to his shoulders. He's wearing eyeliner, too, and Remus had not been even remotely prepared for _that_ possibility. As if all of that wasn't enough, Sirius had gone so far as to arrange several pink and red balloons in the background spelling out _Remus_.

"Oh my God," Remus whispers, at a loss for words. He tries to think of a response, but he's pretty sure his eyes are watering, and he's not sure he trusts himself to speak yet.

"I thought the balloons were a nice touch," Sirius says, a hint of doubt in his voice.

"They're beautiful," Remus says. "Not as much as you, because, like, you really weren't kidding about being hot, what the fuck, but really, I'm – I'm floored. That's so thoughtful."

Sirius' cheeks turn just the slightest bit pink. "Good, good. I'm glad."

From there, they don't do much more than talk as if it's any other nightly phone call, but it's enough for Remus to be more sure than ever that they've found something special, the sort of thing that's even rarer than a message in a bottle washed up on the shore. He's overcome with a sense of gratitude that he's sure he'll feel for as long as Sirius as his – and even if it's premature, he hopes that that is forever.

By the end of the night, their conversation has already turned to figuring out how to meet up in person.

"My school has all sorts of study abroad opportunities," Remus suggests. "I've always been sort of interested, but I never looked into it too deeply because I knew I couldn't afford it. They do have scholarships, though, so I suppose it's worth a try."

"Remus, you're amazing, of course you'll win the scholarship. And if you don't, I'll find a way to come over there. We're doing this," Sirius says.

"London is a popular location, too," Remus adds. "If I get even a partial scholarship, I could maybe cover the rest. I could even work extra hours in the summer if the study abroad is in the fall – yeah, yeah, this could work. You know what? I'll talk to my advisor tomorrow. Or whenever the next open appointment is. Fuck it. I'm going to London."

"That's the spirit," Sirius says.

Remus isn't normally one to make plans without plenty of deliberation, but he knows that this is a plan worth making. The idea of seeing Sirius in person is exhilarating, but at the same time, it feels like it's as natural as going to class on Monday morning or brushing his teeth before going to bed that night. Every moment he spends with Sirius, even from such a distance, feels like it's meant to be.

"This is going to be good," Remus says, smiling softly.

Sirius grins back. "I don't doubt it."

**Author's Note:**

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